Surrender
by freakily obsessed Yassen fan
Summary: The Master's POV of his last few minutes on the Valiant. Series 3, episodes 11-13 spoilers. Oneshot. R&R please :


**This is a rather random idea that I got while watching Last of the Timelords. My first Doctor Who fic, so reviews are welcome!! :D**

As soon as the Valiant comes to a halt, the shuddering stopping to be replaced by the usual smooth flight, I run. It's futile, I know that as soon as I get to my feet – there's nowhere to go – but I have to try. My flight is interrupted almost immediately. As the door opens, Jack Harkness appears and catches hold of me. "Woah, big fella. You don't wanna miss the party." I grit my teeth against the anger that leaps up inside me. How dare he!

"Cuffs," he barks, and they are handed over instantly and he snaps round my wrists, securing them behind my back. He grabs my arm in a firm hand and tows me into the middle of the room. I glare up at the people standing on the raised platform, those who gave me their allegiance, those who I forced into submission, suddenly more powerful than me.

"So…" Jack says, "what do we do with this one?"

"We kill him."

"We execute him." Unsurprisingly, those valued contributions are from the Jones family. The Doctor cuts in.

"No. That's not the solution."

"Oh," says Francine. I had forgotten her, but suddenly she's right in front of me, a gun trained at my head. "I think so. 'Cause all those things, they still happened. Because of him. I saw them." And suddenly I don't care any more.

"Go on," I growl. "Do it." I meet her eyes, hoping to make her angry, but the Doctor is beside her and he's talking.

"Francine," he says gently, "you're better than him." That's all it takes. Suddenly her eyes are full of tears and the gun clatters to the floor.

I should have known she wouldn't do it. Humans. They're all weak, too weak to exact revenge, too weak to fight for themselves. They're only lucky that the Doctor is so besotted with their whole pointless species.

I raise my head.

"You still haven't answered the question," I point out. "What happens to me?"

"You're my responsibility from now on – the only Timelord left in existence." Jack lets go of my arm and hurries to the Doctor's side.

"Yeah, but you can't trust him," he hisses.

"Oh, no. The only safe place for him is the TARDIS." I stare at him, working out what that means for me.

"You mean you're just going to… keep me?" I say the words with distaste and he nods.

"Mm. If that's what I have to do. It's time to change." I roll my eyes, cursing internally, and try and focus on escaping. The cuffs…

The metal is cold round my wrists. I press my thumb into the palm of my hand, try and tug my hand out. A guard standing nearby moves a bit closer and I briefly feel the barrel of his gun press against my back.

"Alright," I growl. He glances towards the Doctor, so cool, so in control, and steps away. I follow his gaze, turning my head to follow the Doctor's movements. It doesn't look like the same man. How can it be the same man? My plaything, the butt of all my jokes for the last year, is suddenly back to being the powerful, charismatic figure that I had known for almost an entire millennium. And I was his captive.

He's still talking, spouting the usual stuff. He looks back at me with genuine affection in his expression and I almost have to vomit. Does he think I'm some pet? Something to be _kept_? A wave of anger bubbles up inside me – that's exactly what he thinks - and I glare at him with hatred in my eyes, but he doesn't see – he's turned away again and is talking to Martha.

I look away from him, ignore him. I don't want to acknowledge him as he looks back at me once again. But then my vision loses its focus and a deafening bang fills my ears. I stagger back. I'm going to fall. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I can't catch myself. But I don't have to, because the Doctor, ever the hero, is suddenly holding me up.

A fresh flare of hatred burns through me at having to be grateful to him. But I can't focus on that, because at the same moment, the pain hits. It blinds me, makes me deaf. I can't see, can't move, can't speak. And then my vision clears and I see Captain Jack taking a gun off of Lucy. My Lucy. She shot me.

The Doctor's talking now and I focus on his voice. It keeps me from drowning in the pain.

"Always the women," I rasp.

"I didn't see her," the Doctor says, like I care. This is a relief, actually. Lucy had the courage to do what Francine couldn't.

"Dying in your arms. Happy now?"

"You're not dying, don't be stupid, it's only a bullet, just regenerate." I hear the pain in the Doctor's voice

"No." It feels good to say that. If this is my last act of defiance, I'm going to enjoy it.

"One little bullet, come on."

"I guess you don't know me so well. I refuse." It's hard to breathe now, but I ignore it. I'm not going yet. Not yet.

"Regenerate. Just regenerate. Please. Please, just regenerate, come on."

"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?" The words leave me in a gasp as the pain crashes down on me again. The Doctor's talking again, talking about memories we shared, the Axons, the Daleks, trying to convince me to regenerate. I won't, though. They were good times, but not any more. I don't want this any more. Living. It's hard work now. All of a sudden, every breath hurts and I've just realised that I don't want to do it any more. After all that fighting to live forever, all I want to do is die, just let go of everything and drift away.

The Doctor's voice is fading now, drowned out by the drumming. I had almost forgotten it – the pain drove it away for a few brief, blessed minutes. But now it's back. Four drumbeats in quick succession, over and over and over and over. I can feel it wearing away at my remaining sanity, little by little, a tiny bit at a time.

"Regenerate!" The Doctor's harsh shout jerks me back to the present, and it's a few moments before I can get my failing body to respond.

"How about that?" I gasp, "I win." A tear – the Doctor's – splashes onto my face, but I hardly feel it. My vision's narrowing, blackness creeping in around the edges, and all I can see is the Doctor's face. He might be talking, I don't know – all I can hear is the drumming.

One last question…

"Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming. Will it stop?" That's all I can manage. My hearts are failing, I can feel it in my chest, a wild panicked beat, trying to cling to life.

_Stop_, I order, _just stop…_

And they do. The Doctor's gone, Lucy's gone, the Valiant's gone, everything I ever did… gone. And there's nothing – no pain, no life, no love, nothing. Just me and my thoughts. Forever.


End file.
